


Making Friends in Dark Alleys

by usopping



Category: One Piece
Genre: (more to be added) - Freeform, Alternate Universe, DO NOT TAG AS VINSMOKE SANJI IF YOU SHARE THIS, Other, genderfluid!Sanji, it's a lot like the One Piece world but not quite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-11 17:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10470477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usopping/pseuds/usopping
Summary: A chance run-in with the beautiful and mysterious Sanji has Zoro falling hard and fast. But who's the man that seems to show up whenever Sanji does, and why won't Sanji talk about him?





	1. People You Meet on the Street in the Middle of the Night Tend to be Really Nice or Really Bad News

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to thatonespacytallgirl on tumblr for coming up with a title for this fic!

“GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!”

Zoro glanced up, startled by the sudden shout. It was nearly three in the morning, and the streets had been quiet and empty as he had made his way to and from the one 24-hour convenience store nearby. His gaze landed on the only other person on the street, and he knew a moment’s confusion – the voice he’d heard had been deep, almost gruff, but the person had long, blond hair and wore a pink dress with matching heels. They were standing right in front of Zoro’s building, and as he approached, they turned slightly. He caught sight of a sharp jawline, a scruff of a beard, a pink lipstick frown, and most curiously, an eyebrow that curled into a spiral at the end.

Intrigued, Zoro watched them shove their phone into their purse and pull out a cigarette and lighter. Placing the smoke between their lips, they flicked the lighter several times, each more aggressive than the last, but it barely even sparked. Finally, they swore loudly again and threw the lighter angrily into the street. They turned as if to storm away just as Zoro reached them. If they were embarrassed that someone had seen their outburst, they didn’t show it.

“The fuck are you looking at?”

Zoro raised an eyebrow at their tone, then pulled his own lighter from his pocket and offered it to them. “Need a light?”

They stared at him hard with their one visible eye before accepting it with a short, “Yeah.”

When they made to hand it back after lighting up, Zoro said, “Keep it.”

They snorted. “You quitting or something?”

“Never started.”

“So you just carry a lighter for fun? You an arsonist?”

Zoro gave a short laugh. “No. My friend always forgets his and I got tired of listening to him bitch.”

Their lips twitched into a small smile as they tucked the lighter into their back. “Well, aren’t you sweet.” They paused to exhale a stream of smoke into the night air, and when they spoke again, their tone was gentler. “Thanks. You wouldn’t happen to have a phone, would you? Mine just fucking died.”

That explained a lot.

“Not on me,” said Zoro, “but this is my building. You can come up if you want. Call a cab or whatever.”

At that, they fixed him with an even harder look than before, like they were sizing him up, but there was something accusatory in their gaze, as well. Zoro was about to snap that he was trying to  _help_ , not  _score_ , when there was a sudden crash from behind him. The other’s eye went wide, the colour draining from their already pale face. Zoro looked over his shoulder and saw that a ways down the street, a metal trash can had been kicked out of an alley into the middle of the road. The hulking silhouette of a man stepped out after it and started striding towards them. Zoro felt a jolt in his gut. The man’s aura, the way he moved, his very  _posture_ was threatening. Zoro was not easily frightened, and frightened wasn’t the right word for how he felt now, but his instincts were telling him to get inside.

“That sounds like a good idea,” came the mumbled reply to his suggestion. “Calling a cab, I mean.” They put out their cigarette against the building’s wall and slipped the unsmoked half into their purse.

“Alright,” Zoro said, already pulling out his keys.

They stayed close to him as he unlocked the door and led the way up to his third-floor apartment. As they climbed the stairs, Zoro felt the other’s hand brush his back, and when he caught the sweet scent of their perfume tinged with that of tobacco, his stomach did an unexpected flip. Upon reaching Zoro’s door, they bumped into him – they’d been looking over their shoulder as if afraid the man would somehow manage to follow them.

“Sorry,” they murmured.

Zoro made no reply, but said, “Shoes” as they entered the apartment, leaving his own well-worn boots by the door. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Sanji,” they replied, slipping out of their heels. Their toenails were painted pale blue.

“I’m Zoro. The phone’s on the coffee table in front of the couch.” He went into the kitchen to put away the milk and eggs he’d gone out to buy. When he entered the living room, the phone was in its cradle, and Sanji was at the window, peeking through the curtains.

“Not gonna call a cab?” Zoro asked and Sanji jumped.

“Don’t sneak up on a person like that!” they snapped. “And hell no! I live clear on the other side of town, that’d be half the night’s tips gone or more! I’ll just…” They faltered a little. “I’ll just wait a bit and walk…”

Zoro watched them chew on their lip and turn to survey the streets below once more. He wondered whether the strange man was still there. It was clear to Zoro that Sanji was afraid of whoever that was, and he didn’t get the impression that Sanji was easily shaken.

“Don’t you have anyone you could call?” he inquired.

Sanji glanced at the clock on the wall. “No one who’d answer this late,” they said tightly.

“So you’re gonna walk across town in  _those_ ,” Zoro said, eyeing the pink heels by the door, “while some lunatic is out there?”

“He’s not a lunatic.”

“Then who is he?”

“None of your business! And I don’t need to be protected!”

“That’s not what I…” Now Zoro faltered. How could he explain that even from a distance he could sense the man was dangerous? He knew it with the same certainty with which he knew that Sanji was not easily shaken, and believed it as surely as he believed them when they said they didn’t need to be protected. It crossed his mind that even on an island like theirs, it took guts to wear a beard and a dress at the same time, especially on this side of town, but something told him voicing this would only insult Sanji further.

“Listen,” he began again. “If you don’t want to call a cab, then just crash here. Buses start running in a few hours anyway.”

Sanji turned away from the window to look at him. “You’d let me do that?”

“Sure, why not.”

Their eye narrowed. “What’s the catch?”

Zoro frowned. “No catch. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“The weird kind, if there’s no catch.”

“Guess you don’t hang out with a whole lot of decent guys, then,” Zoro said dully. “Bedroom’s through there. I’ll take the couch.”

All the attitude seemed to drain out of Sanji. “I can’t let you do that…”

“Let me? It’s my place; I’ll sleep wherever the hell I want.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Do you argue with everyone about everything, or am I special?”

In an instant, the attitude was back. “You? Special? Keep dreaming, buddy.” Then they tossed their hair over their shoulder, marched down the hall to Zoro’s bedroom, and closed the door snappishly behind them, though not before calling out, “I could be a serial killer, for all you know!”

For several moments, Zoro stood still, not quite understanding what had just happened. Then, realizing how tired he was, he grabbed the extra blanket and pillows his friends used whenever they crashed at his place out of the linen closet, made up the couch, undressed, and lay down to sleep, wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into.


	2. Friends Exist to Annoy the Hell Out of You

Zoro slept in late the following morning, and when he awoke, he was surprised to see the pink high heels gone. He wondered whether Sanji had simply slipped out at some point during the night. Maybe they waited for Zoro to fall asleep and left without sleeping themselves. Maybe the mystery man had been waiting for them and Zoro would turn on the TV to see them both in the news.

Not that it would be Zoro’s problem if that were the case. What Sanji did was their own business. Zoro had just happened to run into them and tried to help them out a little. Even so, Zoro was pleasantly surprised when he walked into the kitchen and saw a plate covered with another plate on the counter, and a frying pan, spatula, bowl, and whisk sitting clean in the drying rack. Lifting the top plate and setting it aside, Zoro found a serving of scrambled eggs – and it was still warm. So it hadn’t been _too_ long since Sanji had been there. And they’d freakin’ cooked breakfast and cleaned up, too. Now that Zoro looked closer, the whole kitchen seemed cleaner than it had been … _ever._ He tried to picture Sanji, with their immaculate make-up and fancy dress, scrubbing his stove and found himself shaking his head in disbelief.

Suddenly his stomach grumbled, and he picked up the plate, snatched a fork out of the drawer, and began to eat. The eggs were lightly seasoned (with what, Zoro didn’t know) and were utterly delicious. He’d already scarfed down half of them when he saw that there had been a note underneath the plate. He continued to eat as he peered down at the scribbled words.

_Do you fucking live off alcohol? Your fridge needs some damn variety. Thanks for everything. – Sanji_

Zoro nearly choked on the last bites of his breakfast. He wasn’t sure whether he should be angry or amused. What the hell kind of thank-you note was that? Part of him wanted to laugh, part of him wanted to explain that he hadn’t had time for a grocery run (hence the convenience store trip in the middle of the night), and still another part of him wanted to hurl an insult. It was an odd mix of feelings, particularly since Sanji was barely more than a stranger, and Zoro shoved the note into a drawer at random, to try and shake them.

Having finished the eggs, Zoro washed the plates and fork, then put away the extra bedding and grabbed yesterday’s clothes off the floor before heading to his bedroom. There he found another surprise. The dark curtains that Zoro rarely moved, as he was usually up before dawn, had been thrown open, and early afternoon light was streaming in over piles of dirty laundry and the bed, which Sanji had neatly made before leaving. Zoro wasn’t sure if he’d ever made the bed himself. Embarrassment rushed over him, and this in turn annoyed him, as he’d never cared about anybody seeing the state of his room before. Even so, as he found some clean clothes to wear, he decided that after finally going on that grocery run, he might as well do laundry. He didn’t have any plans until that evening, so why not?

But it definitely had nothing to do with Sanji.

* * *

 

“Damn… Hey, Zoro, do you have a light?” Ace asked after patting his pockets for his own ever-absent lighter.

“No,” Zoro replied.

“No?” Ace repeated.

“Gave it to someone,” said Zoro.

“Gave it to someone?” Ace echoed. “Why?”

“Why not?” Zoro said and sipped at the last of his beer.

Ace leaned over to his brother, Luffy, and stage-whispered, “He’s avoiding the question.”

“Oh. You made him blush,” Luffy said.

“I’m not blushing,” Zoro said even as he felt himself blush harder.

“Alright, fess up,” Ace said with a wicked grin. “Who’d you meet? C’mon, give us the deets.”

With and exasperated sigh, Zoro told the brothers what had happened the night before. As he spoke, the little smirk slid off Luffy’s face and was replaced by the wary expression he sometimes wore that made him seem wise beyond his seventeen years. Ace’s grin, on the other hand, only widened, and a matching glint lit his dark eyes. When Zoro got to the part about the note and breakfast, Ace practically exploded.

“Ohh, they totally like you! Damn, I thought this kind of thing only happens in movies!” he exclaimed. “You’re one lucky guy!”

Zoro frowned. “They didn’t even leave their number.”

This didn’t dampen Ace’s spirits one bit. “And you’re disappointed by that, aren’t you?”

“No!” Zoro lied automatically – and unconvincingly.

“Come on, not even a little?” When Zoro didn’t waver, Ace said, “But hey, they know where you live! Who knows, they might show up and surprise you one day!”

“That’s not creepy at all.”

“What about the scary guy?” Luffy piped up.

“What about him?” Ace asked dismissively.

“If Zoro got a bad feeling about him, he’s definitely dangerous.”

“Zoro can handle him.”

“Chances are I’ll never see him or Sanji again, so what does it matter,” Zoro put in dully.

“Hey now, the Roronoa Zoro I know doesn’t give up so easily!” said Ace.

“I’m not ‘giving up’, I’m being realistic.”

“So, what are you gonna do if they show up again?” Ace asked, lacing his fingers together and perching his chin on top of his hands.

“I’ll figure that out if it happens.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Humour me!” Ace said in a last-ditch effort to get Zoro talking.

Luckily, the waitress appeared just then to whisk away their empty plates and ask if they wanted dessert. Luffy and Ace both requested milkshakes, while Zoro ordered another beer. Once those had been downed, Zoro paid the bill – he was the only one of them with a steady job – and the three of them took to the streets. Ace bummed a light from the first smoker he saw, and was quiet for a time while he enjoyed his cigarette. But it didn’t last.

“What do you think this Sanji person was doing in your part of town?” he asked in a forced-casual tone.

Zoro saw right through him. “Who cares.”

“Not much really around there, huh. Just that convenience store and some shitty bars.”

“Maybe they were just passing through,” Zoro said tightly, his patience starting to wear thin.

“Maybe they know someone who lives near there,” Luffy suggested, clearly paying more attention to the hubbub of city nightlife around them than the conversation. They were downtown, roughly the halfway point between Zoro’s apartment on the outskirts and Luffy and Ace’s home in the mountains. It had been a while since they’d met up, but Zoro would recognize the adventure-hungry look on Luffy’s face anywhere.

“Then they would’ve stayed with the friend instead of Zoro,” Ace pointed out. He paused, looking thoughtful. “Unless the scary dude was between them and their friend…”

“Would you drop it already?” Zoro asked tiredly.

“No, wait, I got it! They’re an escort, and the scary dude was a customer who asked – no, demanded something _wild_ , and –”

“Ace, shut the fuck up!” Zoro snapped.

Wiping the surprise from his face almost before Zoro could notice it, Ace said, “You got a problem with escorts?”

“No, I got a problem with you making shit up about someone you never met. I said drop it, okay?”

“Fine, fine. Jeez.”

They continued walking in tense silence for a few more minutes.

“Ah,” Luffy said as though suddenly remembering something. “Usopp said there’s a bunch of people getting together under the bridge. Wanna check it out?” When neither of the others replied, he sing-songed, “There’s gonna be booze!”

“Sure,” Zoro grunted after a moment.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Ace agreed.

They turned towards the railroad tracks that traveled through the whole island, and walked along them until they came to the beginning of the bridge. Loud voices, music, and the sizzling of something cooking greeted them even before they slid down the grassy slope and found the party in full swing. No streetlights lit the abandoned bit of railroad track that ran underneath the bridge. The only light came from two blazing fires, one on each side, and these cast the mass of people between them into dramatic shadow. Luffy led Zoro and Ace straight to the nearest fire, where Usopp was sitting with his three young followers and a handful of other artsy kids they often hung out with. Usopp was in the middle of a story that, as usual, starred himself.

“Hey, Usopp! How’s Kaya?” Luffy called, referring to the wealthy, bedridden girl who Usopp visited daily, much to the displeasure of her butler.

“Better every day!” Usopp said happily. “Careful with your food, guys, Luffy’s a bottomless pit,” he warned his audience before launching right back into his tale.

One of the listeners casually edged between Luffy and the fire, where a grill had been set up with the help of a few cinderblocks, and a dozen fat sausages were cooking. Luffy was eyeing them hungrily and vying for a spot near the fire when a perpetually-sleepy-looking blond appeared and clapped Ace on the shoulder. They greeted one another warmly, and Ace waved to Zoro before crossing the tracks with the other man. Zoro watched them as they took seats around the other fire, and Ace greeted the rest of his friends. Through the throngs of shadowy people, he could only see a few of the others there, all of them people he knew by sight but not by name. There was the guy with a brown pompadour and a scar on his face; the black-haired person who favourite yukata and red lipstick; and the large man with a loud voice who always seemed to have a cherry pie on hand, and who rubbed both Zoro and Luffy the wrong way.

With a shout a Luffy to leave the kids’ food alone, Zoro stepped out of the fire’s warm circle of light and began strolling through the crowd. Keeping an eye out for booze, he caught sight of more familiar faces – the orange-haired girl who Ace claimed had once beaten Zoro at a drinking contest (Zoro remembered no such thing); the tattooed girl with short blue hair who often accompanied her; that one redheaded asshole who was always trying to pick a fight; and the blond fortune teller who was always surrounded by a bunch of Goth chicks who seemed oblivious to his disinterest. A lot of the people there were homeless, or as good as, Zoro knew. He figured most of them were similar in other ways, too – a bunch of kids with dreams bigger than this island, but without the means to make them happen. Luffy wasn’t the only one who talked about finding Gold Roger’s legendary treasure. In fact, he’d gotten into a fight with the redheaded asshole over that very thing the first time they’d met.

Zoro had a dream, too, but it wasn’t on his mind just then. He’d finally spotted a keg and several cartons of beer on a makeshift table of cinderblocks and plywood. He was making a beeline for it when he caught sight of a flash of blond hair out of the corner of his eye. He stopped abruptly, and someone bumped into him and proceeded to cuss him out, but he didn’t register a word of it; he was too busy scanning the crowd once more. Could Sanji be here? The person who’d bumped into him shoved angrily past him and stormed away, and Zoro snapped out of it. He was being ridiculous. Was some breakfast and a stupid note all it took to get under his skin these days? He shook his head and closed the gap between himself and the beer table, where a distraction presented itself in the form of two old friends of his, Johnny and Yosaku.

“Zoro! Bro!” Johnny exclaimed upon spotting him. “Catch!”

Zoro snatched the tallboy Johnny threw out of the air one-handed, and the two cheered obnoxiously. They were clearly already drunk.

“How’s it going?” Zoro asked, flicking the can on the side a few times – he’d heard that would keep it from exploding.

“Great, great!” Johnny replied.

“We caught a couple of pirates the other day,” Yosaku told him. “They were nobodies, no match for us, of course, but money is money.” He grinned cockily.

“We decided to give back to the people,” said Johnny.

“Then I have you to thank for this?” Zoro tipped his beer towards them.

“Ahh, none of that, you’re our bro, bro!” Johnny waved him off.

“Well, thanks anyway.” He snapped the tallboy open. It promptly exploded, and he was forced to chug more than half of the contents while Johnny and Yosaku rolled on the ground, roaring with laughter. The booze went straight to his head and the night really got started. He took a breath and chugged the rest, then smacked the bounty hunters for laughing at him before grabbing a second drink. The beer was cheap, but it was cold and went down easy, and before long, Zoro had lost count of how many he’d had. He chatted some more with Johnny and Yosaku, and followed them around for a while as they flitted through the crowd talking to people, making sure they were having a good time, as though they were the hosts rather than just the providers of booze. As always, the party had divided up into several small groups, and Johnny and Yosaku seemed to know someone from each one. Zoro quickly tired of following them around, and was on his way back to Usopp’s fire, where he was sure Luffy was still staked out, when he once again caught sight of a flash of blond hair.

He froze in his tracks once more, and this time, emboldened by the alcohol, he turned and set off after the mystery blond. He was still sober enough that a voice in his head reminded him that the chances of Sanji being there were slim to none, but for some reason he had to make sure. He stumbled a little, crossing the tracks in his pursuit, sloshing beer over the hand that held the can. He knew he probably looked like an absolute tool, but he didn’t care, especially when a group moved from in front of him and he saw the blond. Their back was to him, but the likeness to Sanji was uncanny. Long hair tumbled down their back, a denim mini-skirt hung from narrow hips, and cork wedges combined with the fire’s light threw their calves into high definition (though Zoro couldn’t help but note that they, unlike Sanji’s, were hairless). Zoro slowed when he realized that they were part of a large group mostly made up of girls.

“Who’s _that_ weirdo?” one of them asked snottily, and all of them, including the blond, turned to stare at him.

It wasn’t Sanji.

“Thought you were someone else,” Zoro muttered and quickly headed for the fire again while the group laughed behind him.

Upon entering the fire’s circle, he was immediately seized by Luffy and pulled to sit between him and Usopp. Someone handed him a sausage on a stick, and he briefly wondered if the food was courtesy of Johnny and Yosaku, too. The thought passed quickly, and soon the antics of the younger boys on either side of him had him forgetting the girls’ laughter, his stupid behaviour, his mixed emotions, and eventually Sanji altogether. They ate and drank and laughed; Usopp told stories; Luffy became affectionate, hugging and leaning against Zoro; someone cranked the music up louder and people began to dance and sing; Ace and his blond friend disappeared at some point, but neither Luffy nor Zoro was worried; and when the party began to wind down in the early hours of the morning just as the horizon started turning a lighter blue, Luffy announced that he was staying with Usopp, and he and Zoro said their goodbyes under the bridge.

The streets were quiet even in the areas of downtown that had been bustling when the night had started. Zoro made his way home in a drunken haze that made every movement feel slowed down. He smiled at the handful of people he passed, and they smiled back, or giggled drunkenly. He couldn’t tell if he was meant to be insulted when the latter happened, but it didn’t really matter. Maybe they were just giddy.

He didn’t know how long it took him to get home, but he did register that it took him three tries to get his key into the door of his apartment building, and for some reason that was pretty funny. He began to notice how tired he was when he was climbing the stairs, and when it took a couple of tries to get his key into his door, as well, he found it less funny. Inside, he didn’t bother turning on any lights. He simply kicked off his shoes and felt his way to his bedroom, undressed, leaving his clothes on the floor, and fell into bed. As he did, he was engulfed by the scent of sweet perfume and the slightest hint of tobacco. His heart gave a massive thud, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. His bed smelled like Sanji.

Zoro, too dunk to even lie to himself, sighed happily and inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes and buried his face in the pillow. His last thought before falling asleep was that he hoped to see Sanji again.


	3. Mysterious is as Mysterious Does

Two weeks went by before Zoro ran into Sanji again. He was on his way home after a long day at work. It was late, but not as late as the first time – maybe eleven thirty. With a duffel bag of equipment and sweaty clothing on his back and three katana wrapped carefully in cloth for protection under his arm, Zoro’s mind was still at the dojo, doing one last run-through of his list of cleaning and maintenance responsibilities. He was concentrating so hard that he didn’t here the clacking of heels pounding the pavement until Sanji was right next to him.

“You!” they exclaimed, gasping for breath. “Zoro!”

“Sanji!” Zoro snapped back to the present and took in the sight before him. This time, they wore a black dress and heels, but that wasn’t what caught Zoro’s attention. Sanji was winded, their face shiny with sweat, their hair dishevelled. One of the dress’ spaghetti straps had been torn and hung limp and useless over their shoulder. Most alarmingly, there was blood running from the corner of their mouth, and a bruise blooming at their temple.

“What happened?” Zoro asked.

“No time to explain, gotta get inside,” Sanji mumbled evasively, already starting down the street again.

“GET BACK HERE, BITCH!” the roar came from behind, rumbling like thunder, and Zoro caught sight of a familiar silhouette.

“Hurry up!” Sanji said urgently, and Zoro ran to catch up to them.

“Who is that?” he demanded.

“Doesn’t matter. Just run!”

Zoro wanted to argue, and only the fearful streak in Sanji’s voice and the fact that the man behind them was now charging down the street, danger rolling off him in waves, kept him from doing so. He caught up with Sanji, and they ran straight for Zoro’s building as if some unspoken agreement had been reached. The man’s shouts – insults and threats – echoed around them, getting louder by the moment, and when Zoro and Sanji darted into Zoro’s building and he fumbled with his keys, the feeling of imminent danger reached a crescendo. Unlocking the door at last, Zoro motioned for Sanji to dart in first, and slammed the glass door with its iron bars shut as soon as he got inside himself. Sanji was halfway up the first flight of stairs already, but they paused to wait for Zoro. He had just caught up when a loud banging sounded from below, the dull thud of a fist slamming against reinforced glass. Sanji was pale as a ghost, though still breathing hard, and they once again stayed close to Zoro as they climbed up to his apartment. The sweet scent of their perfume hit Zoro quite suddenly, and his heart seemed to swell in his chest. He wanted to put a protective arm around Sanji, to somehow shield them and let them know they were safe here, but he knew that wasn’t his place and suspected Sanji would only take offense if he tried. He contented himself with staying half a step behind them – between him and the man who, he could hear, was still banging on the door.

When Zoro let them into his apartment, Sanji took their shoes off right away and started pacing around the living room, wringing their hands, and biting their red-painted lips. Zoro took his time removing his own shoes and setting his bag and the bundled katana on the couch. He watched Sanji pace and noticed several scrapes on their bare calves and forearms. He considered asking what had happened again, but thought better of it, and before he could decide what to say, Sanji stopped pacing and looked at him with an expression that was somehow at once tentative and defiant.

“Would it be alright if I stayed here again?” they asked quietly.

Guarded. That was what their expression was.

“Sure,” Zoro replied. Then, unable to resist looking them over yet again, he said, “Do you, uh, wanna take a shower or something? Not together,” he added quickly, and to his relief, Sanji cracked a smile.

“Ohoho, dream on, buddy,” they said with a hair toss that made Zoro’s heart do a flip. “A shower would be great. And … ah, this is awkward … could I maybe borrow some clothes?”

“Yeah, sure,” Zoro said again. “Follow me.”

He led Sanji to the bedroom and told them to grab something out of the closet while he got a towel for them from the linen cupboard. Sanji smiled their thanks before slipping into the bathroom, and Zoro returned to the living room with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Despite how strange the situation was, despite Sanji’s evasiveness about the obviously dangerous man (who Zoro wasn’t convinced wasn’t a lunatic no matter what Sanji said), Zoro was glad to have run into them again. He continued to smile to himself as he put away his duffel bag and then unwrapped the three swords. He was vaguely aware of the sound of the shower running as he started to clean the first blade, but by the time he moved to the second, he was entirely focused on his task, and didn’t notice that the sound had stopped until Sanji spoke.

“Whoa, talk about overkill. The hell do you need three swords for?”

Zoro looked up, and the retort he’d been about to snap died in his throat. The Sanji that now stood before him was so different from the Sanji he had come to expect. Their hair was short and shaggy, darker than normal from the water, but they’d still swept some of it over their left eye. Zoro’s clothes were big on them, and with their make-up removed they looked a little rougher around the edges and … tired. As they circled the couch and took a seat, Zoro couldn’t take his eyes off them. When they pulled their legs up onto the couch to sit cross-legged, Zoro noticed that their toenails were no longer blue, but pale green.

“And why were you carrying swords around at all?” Sanji went on, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Zoro’s stare. “Aren’t there rules about that kinda thing?”

Probably the latter. Zoro forced himself to pull his gaze from them and refocused on the sword in his hands.

“Does it matter? People on this island aren’t really the rule-following type, are they?” he said. The place was overrun with two-bit pirates and teenage wannabes, and the navy pretty much had its hands full with the world’s rougher seas. This was the Golden Age of Piracy, after all.

Sanji snorted. “So what are you, a pirate? Living in a shitty apartment on a shitty island in the world’s weakest sea?”

“Hardly,” Zoro said, shooting them a glare that was only half-serious. “I teach swordsmanship at a dojo. I brought these in to show the kids.”

Sanji blinked. “You work with kids?” Their tone was flat, disbelieving.

“You’re surprised?”

“Impressed,” Sanji corrected with a smile. “How’d they like seeing the swords?”

“They’re always a hit. Half of them want to start training with the real thing, half of them are scared, even though they try to hide it,” Zoro replied, thinking about the kids who hung back when the rest surged forward for a closer look the moment he’d revealed the katana.

“Scared of using a real sword? But they want to be swordsmen, don’t they?” Sanji asked.

“Well, that probably had more to do with the curse.”

“Excuse me?”

Zoro held the sword he was working on straight up, studying the blade. “This is Sandai Kitetsu. It’s cursed.”

Sanji looked from the blade to Zoro and back again. “You’re joking, right?”

But Zoro shook his head. “I knew from the moment I touched it. The shopkeeper outright refused to sell it to me. He said that everyone who had ever wielded it met a horrible end. So I decided to test my luck against its curse.” He smirked and looked at Sanji. “I threw it in the air, stuck my arm out underneath … and it missed.”

Sanji was silent for a moment. Then they said, “Are you an idiot?” Before Zoro could reply, they went on, “And you tell that to kids? You want them to go chop their arms off or something? I take back what I said, I’m not impressed, I’m stunned that someone let an oaf like you teach children.”

“I’m good at my job!” Zoro insisted. “It’s just a story to them, anyway.”

“But not to you?”

“You’re not a swordsman, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh?” Sanji stretched out on their side on the couch, propping their head up with one hand and fixing Zoro with a look at that both curious and disbelieving. “So you’re not just a teacher, then.”

“Can’t teach unless you know what you’re doing.” He sheathed Sandai Kitetsu, picked up the third and final sword, and began its maintenance.

“Do they all have a story?” Sanji inquired.

“Kind of,” said Zoro. “This one is Yubashiri. The shopkeeper who refused to sell Sandai Kitetsu sort of … entrusted it to me once my luck beat Kitetsu’s curse.”

“Nice guy.”

“He recognized a fellow swordsman,” Zoro said and ignored Sanji’s eye-roll.

“And that one?” they prodded, motioning to the white katana which Zoro had cleaned first and already placed standing up against the wall.

For the first time, he hesitated. “It’s … more personal.”

Sanji continued to watch him curiously, but when he didn’t elaborate, they didn’t pry. Instead, they watched Zoro work for some time, fidgeting with the hem of their shirt. Then they rolled onto their back and stared at the ceiling. Zoro couldn’t help but notice, out of the corner of his eye, that their shirt had ridden up, revealing a strip of pale abdomen and a neat trail of wiry hair leading down…. Zoro looked away. He heard Sanji shift position, then shift position again. Finally, they sat up and asked, “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Oh! Uh, go ahead,” Zoro said quickly, feeling stupid for not letting them know it was fine. “Here, I have a…” He trailed off, setting Yubashiri down and opening the sliding glass door to the balcony to grab the old jar Ace used as an ashtray. Before he went back inside, he caught sight of the man from before seated on the curb under the streetlight directly across from the building, glaring at the door with such focus that he didn’t notice Zoro at all.

“I can go outside if you want,” Sanji offered when Zoro placed the jar on the floor next to where they sat on the couch.

“You’d better not. That guy’s still out there,” he said quietly.

Sanji sucked in a breath, their brow knitting. “Are … you sure it’s him?”

Zoro nodded.

Sanji muttered a curse and climbed over the back of the couch before disappearing into the apartment. Moments later, they returned, carrying their purse, bundled up clothing, and accessories including their hair extensions. They dumped everything at one end of the couch, sat down, and dug out a cigarette and the lighter Zoro had given them. As they lit up and smoked in silence, their gaze was no longer on Zoro and his katana, but out of focus, though aimed at the blank television opposite them. Zoro wanted to offer some words of comfort, but he wasn’t sure he could come up with anything helpful. ‘Don’t worry’ and ‘it’ll be okay’ felt too generic, yet how could he say anything more when Sanji wouldn’t tell him who the guy was?

As he finished with Yubashiri, what he said instead was, “So, what brings you to this side of town, anyway?”

The way Sanji blinked slowly, pulling himself almost visibly out of his thoughts nearly made Zoro retract the question, but before he had time to do so, they said, “Work. I’m a bartender and waiter at a … restaurant nearby.”

“Oh? Not a cook?” Zoro asked, thinking back to the breakfast they’d left him.

“That’s my day job.”

“So you’re kind of a jack of all trades.”

Sanji gave a small laugh. “A jack of all restaurant trades, maybe. My old man owns a place called the Baratie on the other side of town. I practically grew up in the kitchens.”

“Sounds like you’re working around the clock.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“True. I’ve had a pretty long day myself. We should both get some sleep.”

“I’m taking the couch this time,” Sanji informed as they stubbed out their cigarette.

Zoro, who had been picking up his katana, glanced over at them. “Didn’t I tell you I sleep where I want in my house?”

Sanji stretched out over the couch like a cat and smirked at Zoro (who once again noticed their shirt riding up). “What are you gonna do, make me move? Pick me up and carry me to your bed? I’d like to see you try!”

“Forget it! Sleep on the couch, what do I care,” Zoro snapped. He wasn’t sure what was making his blood boil – the challenge or the flirtatious tone – but he could feel himself going red, so he left the living room abruptly to fetch the bedding. When he returned, he dumped the blanket and pillows unceremoniously onto Sanji and said, “Good night.”

“Aw, don’t be mad, _marimo_ ,” they teased.

“ _Marimo_?” Zoro repeated in disbelief.

“Yeah, your head looks like one.”

“Shut up! You’re the one with the curly eyebrow!”

Sanji only laughed and waved Zoro off. “Good night, my little moss ball.”

Sighing in exasperation, Zoro hurried down the hall to his room, his blush deepening. Once inside, he leaned against the closed door for a moment. _My little moss ball?_ He probably should have felt a lot more insulted than he did, but he mostly felt an odd sort of pleasure purring in his chest. It was a nickname. A stupid, ridiculous nickname. And Sanji had called him _theirs_.

Shit. He was in deep already.

Zoro shook his head at himself, pushed away from the door, and began to undress. If anything was ridiculous in this situation, it was Zoro himself. He runs into a person a couple of times and lets them stay the night, and now he’s getting all hot and bothered over a nickname that obviously wasn’t anything more than a jab at his weird hair colour? Sanji would probably have disappeared by morning, just like last time, and who knew if Zoro would ever see them again? Throwing himself into bed, he scowled at himself in the dark. He needed to calm down, regain control over himself. Sanji was still more of a mystery than anything else, and getting them to open up had proven difficult, to say the least. Yet for some reason, that only made Zoro want to know them even more. If he got more chances to do so, he would take them gladly. And if anything other than this strange … acquaintanceship … came of it, all the better. He relaxed and buried his face in his pillow, trying to ignore the still-present disappointment that Sanji’s scent had faded from it several days ago.

* * *

 

Zoro awoke to an unfamiliar sound, and it took him several moments to realize that it was the sizzling noise of something cooking. He stretched and yawned before climbing out of bed and grabbing a t-shirt off the floor. Pulling it on, he left his room and made his way to the kitchen, where he found Sanji at the stove. Their hair was mussed from sleep, and they wore a pink apron over the clothing they’d borrowed from him. Zoro briefly wondered where the apron had come from, but he was too stricken by how damn good they looked to think about it for long.

Sanji looked up and smiled at him. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Zoro grunted.

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah… You?”

“Not bad. You sure you’re awake?”

“Sorry, I was distracted by the dartboard on your forehead.”

Sanji went red and scowled at him. “Oi! Don’t insult the person who’s cooking your damn breakfast, you shitty _marimo_! Just sit your ass down and wait patiently!”

“You’re making breakfast for me?” Zoro asked.

“For us, obviously,” said Sanji. “Who the hell else would it be for? Now sit!”

Zoro frowned at being bossed around in his own home, but shuffled past them to the dining area nevertheless and took a seat at the rickety table. As Sanji worked, he couldn’t help but stare. They moved with fluid grace, humming vaguely, swishing their hips, a smile on their lips… it was clear they were in their element, and it made them all the more beautiful. Zoro could probably have gone on watching them for hours, but before long, Sanji was making their way to the table, a plate in each hand. They set them down and whirled away to grab glasses, cutlery, and drinks, finding everything with such ease they seemed right at home.

This time, Sanji had made pancakes, eggs sunny side up, and toast cut diagonally into triangles. Zoro dug in while they poured glasses of orange juice for them both. Once again, though it was a simple meal, everything was great – eggs perfectly cooked, pancakes fluffy and melt-in-your mouth … and Zoro didn’t usually even like pancakes much. He noticed that Sanji didn’t start eating right away themselves, only pushed their food around, their attention wholly on Zoro and _his_ food.

“Hmm…” he said. “Not bad.”

“Oh, please, you know it’s delicious,” Sanji retorted, cracking a cocky grin. “Well, I suppose you’re partially to thank for that, since you took my advice.”

“Huh?” Zoro asked through a mouthful of toast.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Sanji scolded. “I’m talking about the note I left.”

Zoro swallowed. “Oh, yeah … the douchiest thank-you note I ever saw…. Yeah, totally took it to heart, swirly.”

“Rude! I was only trying to help!”

“You have a funny way of doing it.”

They continued to bicker between bites, both with playful smirks on their faces, though they quickly wound up simply tossing insults back and forth, and eventually fell into a comfortable silence. Zoro was just draining his glass when Sanji said, “You never did tell me why you need three swords. Still seems like overkill to me.”

“I practice _santoryuu_ ,” Zoro replied. “Three sword style.”

“Huh… so one in each hand and the third in…”

“My mouth.”

He’d expected Sanji to laugh at him again or make some kind of sarcastic comment, but instead they looked thoughtful. “Sounds like you’d make an interesting opponent.”

“Are you planning on fighting me?” It came out sounding more disbelieving than Zoro meant, and Sanji gave him a hard look.

“What, you don’t think I could take you? Come at me anytime, shithead! I’ll kick your ass!” They stood and started to clear dishes away.

“Anytime, eh? So you fight with your fists?”

“My feet,” Sanji corrected. “A chef’s hands are their life. As long as I have them, I can cook. I refuse to fight with them.”

Zoro watched them place plates, glasses, cutlery, and cooking utensils in the sink, then grab the carton of orange juice and return them to the fridge.

“Cooking must be really important to you,” he said and instantly felt like an idiot.

Sanji, however, smiled. “It is. I’ve wanted to be a chef since I was a kid.”

“Then we have something in common. I’ve wanted to be the world’s greatest swordsman since I was a kid.”

“World’s greatest swordsman?” Sanji repeated. “How’s something like that even decided?”

“All I have to do is defeat the one who currently holds the title. Although…” he laughed a little. “That’s easier said than done.”

“I see… Well, I don’t want to be the best or anything. I just want to feed whoever’s hungry.”

“That’s noble.” Zoro really meant it, but Sanji turned that hard look on him once more.

“It’s common decency! Besides…” they looked away. “Being hungry, not knowing if you’ll ever eat again… that’s a horrible feeling.”

Zoro sensed a story there, but before he could decide whether or not he should even try to go there, Sanji clapped their hands together and said, “Anyway, time to do the dishes.”

“Just leave them for me, you’ve already done more than enough.”

“No way. I cooked, so I’m cleaning.”

“Come on, leave it, it’s my stuff.”

Sanji gave them an attitude-filled look, their hands on their hips, and huffed, “How about a compromise – you wash, I’ll dry.”

Zoro sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

They moved to the sink and got to work. Washing and drying in silence, they worked well in sync, and it wasn’t long before the dishes and other utensils were sitting drying in the rack. Sanji gave the stove and counters one last wipe down, and even in this they seemed somehow professional. Zoro watched as they hung up the dishrag to dry and picked up the pink apron, which they’d left on a stool while they ate. As they folded it neatly, they said, “I’d better get going. Is it okay if I bring these clothes back another day?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Zoro. “Anytime.”

“You’d better give me your number so I can call you in advance.” They pulled out their cell. “I’ll give you mine, too.”

“Alright,” Zoro said and dug his phone out of its drawer.

They swapped phones and put in their numbers. Then Sanji gathered their things and Zoro stood awkwardly nearby as they slipped on their shoes. The black pumps looked comically out of place with the borrowed old pajama pants and well-worn t-shirt, but Sanji didn’t seem to mind. They tossed their hair as they straightened up and smiled at Zoro.

“Thanks for everything,” they said.

“No problem. Thanks for breakfast.”

Their smile widened. “You’re welcome. See you later!”

“Yeah, see you.”

And then they were gone and Zoro was left standing dumbly by the door, the cell phone that now contained Sanji’s number still clutched in his hand. After a few moments had passed, he started for the kitchen to return the cell to its drawer, but abruptly changed his mind and headed for his bedroom instead. He left the phone on his bedside table, changed into his work-out clothes, laced up his sneakers, and headed out for a run.


End file.
